Melody of the heart
by Wolflover2000
Summary: An AU in which Happy is a very nervous Pianists doing her first performance.
_1, 2, 3_

 _breathe..._

 _in…_

 _out…_

Breathe. The first performance was always the hardest. The fear of watching eyes and judging minds tearing through her. She tried to force it out, pretended she was back at home, surrounded by calming solitude. She pictured her hands melting into the keys, playing a melody that was burned comfortably into her mind. Losing herself in the music. Sometimes becoming a little too lost. Forgetting all her fears and doubts, settled in a place between dreams and present life. Her father once told her he could carry on whole conversations and she wouldn't notice. He also liked to joke that only one person could pull her out of that state.

Happy didn't let herself believe that for one bit, though he was always there when she fell back down to earth, with food and a smile she never returned. "You're amazing."

A soft whisper, "You really should perform sometime."

So there she was. Being watched by hundreds of people. _And being judged too_ , a voice reminded. Breathe. _She could do this._ Happy looked up to blaring yellow lights all around. She supposed that for some they were comforting, but the colorless blanket they cast sent shivers down her spine. She could hardly make out the people behind it, they were all black blurs and smudges dancing in her vision and concealing them from her view, letting her mind run wild with possibilities. For all she knew the auditorium could be packed, or barely filled. _It doesn't matter the size, they'll all leave anyway._ That little voice always cut in at the worst times. Trying to get her to give up, give in to worthlessness. She never let it win; she tried not to let it rule her life, but some things were harder than others. This was one of those things, and Happy found herself thrusting herself away from the piano, sliding over the bench into a run, and pushing past into the backstage. She ran until she found the spot she was looking for. _She couldn't do this._

An advantage to owning a theatre was all the hiding places you owned with it, a place to stay hidden from people and their burning stares.

 _1, 2, 3_

 _breathe..._

 _in…_

 _out…_

Happy stood in the shadows, hidden from the view of the audience. She closed her eyes, letting the darkness seep into her. She was weak, she was frail, she couldn't be strong. The ripe shock of pain and crack of impact snapped her to her senses, and she glanced down to see angry red flesh had torn across her fingers. Slowly, she flexed, the pain ripping numbly through her as she choked on the breath lodged in her throat. _Nice going Quinn, your father is going to be so proud._ Then a light beamed through, illuminating her hiding spot, and she found herself exposed, unearthed.

"Thought I'd find you here."

"Oh really," she countered, trying to focus more on the sting of her knuckles than the misfortune of being found. Her eyes flickered to him for the briefest of moments as Toby leaned against the smooth, polished wood of the wall, arms crossed. His searching eyes burning through her skin even more than the aggravated flesh on her hand. When he spoke, his voice was low and soft, concern badly hidden, "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious, you brought me." Happy forced herself to take a breath, her tone sounding unfairly angry, "Figure it out."

Toby leaned forward, thinking, his face taken on by a look that usually meant he was going to say something stupid, "Really? Because I don't remember hiding you in here." The joking look on his face was extinguished as he asked, "We both know why you came here, but what are you doing _here_?"

Happy fell back against the wall, letting it support her as she slowly slid to the floor. She thought back to the piano waiting for her, the empty bench slowly collecting dust, "I don't know."

She thought about the audience waiting, probably filing out by now. No one was on stage, no one was coming out to perform, why would they stay? No one else in her life had ever cared enough to stay.

 _1, 2, 3_

 _breathe..._

 _in…_

 _out…_

Finally, "What if they don't like me?"

Toby took the place across from her, sitting down with a soft thump. Their bodies barely fit in the cramped space, and the soles of his shoes knocked against her ankles. "I know this might not mean much to that thick skull of yours, but you are _amazing_."

He took her hand gently, running his thumb across the surrounding sore skin, "So smart, and capable, and fun. You've tried so hard for this, and…" A quick hand squeeze, "You really are stunning."

"Ow."

"Ow?"

"You're holding my bad hand."

"Oh," he held it up, now covered with a fresh bandage, "You want to give it another shot, my talented prodigy?"

She rolled her eyes and wondered what it would be like to push him against the wall and lose herself in him until this whole thing was over. To stay here where it was safe, let this small space fill with the security of them. Maybe...maybe then this would all feel right.

 _1, 2, 3_

 _breathe..._

 _in…_

 _out…_

She grasped at his hand tighter, and felt the familiar sting of pain in her bandaged hand. He was her anchor, and as much as it annoyed her to admit it, she needed him.

"Maybe…" she murmured, almost to herself, "But you can't unring a bell." Toby quirked an eyebrow at her, eyes slightly confused, lips teasing at a faint hint of amusement. Maybe her idea wasn't such a bad one if it took that idiotic look of his face.

That's how she found herself with her hand holding his, crushed awkwardly between them, the other gripping his shirt for leverage, holding him in his place as she let go of everything trapped painfully inside.

His knees pressed against her sides, hand landing uncertainly at her waist as she realized that there was almost no other way they could get any closer. She kissed him hard, forcefully, before her body relaxed, hand on his chest uncurling, the doubt and the fear trapped inside her breaking free, leaving her exhausted as she melted against him, her chest heaving slightly.

Her whole body was melting ice, but the one hand remained solid, still glued tightly to his. His hushed voice ruffled her hair as he spoke, "Not that I'm not enjoying," he half gestured to their mingled bodies, "...this, but you still have a piece to perform."

Right, the performance, that godawful ordeal that she decided on suffering because of the look on her father's face...among other things. Happy, sighed, leaning her head back on Toby's chest at that perfect angle where she could see his face. "Do I have too?" Something about intimate situations allowed you to act slightly childish.

Toby laughed, pulling them both up and letting go of her hand. The loss of his pressure and warmth reminded her of the pain. Happy took a deep breath, focusing her mind on how proud her father looked when she told him she wanted to do this.

"Yes, you do," Toby answered through the silence. Finally she gave him back a smile of her own before starting out. "To be continued?" he added hesitantly.

She turned to see him watching after her, eyes hopeful, timid, and soft. "You never give up," she laughed, shaking her head. Then, "Good."

When she finally reached the stage area, she saw Paige frantically giving orders to people. Then she looked out to see Happy and her face relaxed, eyes brightening. Forgetting the whole _stop giving me hugs_ thing Happy insisted on, Paige gave her a tight thankful squeeze, "Thank god, I was worried sick." Then her face took on the _mom look_ , "You okay?"

Happy nodded, the action allowing Paige to stop the gentle gestures and switch to roughly pushing her on stage with a good luck and a wink.

 _1, 2, 3_

 _breathe..._

 _in…_

 _out…_

Happy thought back to her father's face, Paige's comforting looks, and that small moment stolen in the darkness as she took her seat. _She could do this._ Happy thought about the keys, the music, the way it set something free inside of her. _She could do this._ She thought about the melody flowing through the air, her hands liquid, surrendering to the notes, letting them take on life, breathing the peace and comfort of the music into the theatre air.

 _She could do this._


End file.
